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Friday the 13th
Catechism says, "Aerospace! It is Friday the 13th, and you know what that means?" Excise says, "N...no?" Runamuck says, "But how are we gonna find hockey masks big enough for all the Seekers?" Redshift says, "Killing spree?" Catechism says, "Yes. But slightly more complicated than that, Redshift!" Brawl says, "I know, I know!" Brawl says, "It means we hit people!" Rippersnapper says, "A killing spree scavenger hunt?" Fleet says, "I'm... afraid I have no idea as to the significance at all, Catechism." Wiretap has encrypted this channel. Rippersnapper says, "It's a good thing you're all so pretty." Wiretap says, "Channel secure. Please continue plotting the demise of our enemies." Excise says, "We're killing Scavenger?" Catechism says, "You see, on Friday the 13th, the /luck energies/ of Planet Earth are at an all-time low, and certain objects can lower the ambient luck of an area even lower. If we gather these objects, we may even be able to /lense/ the anti-luck effect to create an /anti-luck laser/. So, yeah, scavenger hunt." Redshift says, "That makes so much sense it HAS to be true!" Runamuck says, "...wait, so, like, does any part of this involve hockey masks?" Redshift says, "Dibs!" Fleet says, "... Air Commander, that's one of the most absurd things I've ever heard, and I've lived in Hell." Runamuck says, "'ey, 'ey, show some respect for the chain of command, flyin' person guy. It's brilliant and all sciency and stuff." Catechism says, "Yes, you must gather hockey masks, broken mirrors, dead ladybugs, ladders, indoor umbrellas, and black cats. Now, where did Soundwave put Ravage...." Brawl says, "Is that a... good kind of laser?" Runamuck says, "WOO HOCKEY MASK." Catechism says, "If we shoot the Autobots with it, bad luck will befall them, Brawl." Fleet has arrived. Fleet returns to reality. Fleet has left. Catechism says, "Fleet! Oh, ye of little faith. Next thing, you will tell me there is no such thing as electric lava." Excise says, "Wait... doesn't bad luck happen to Autobots whenever we shoot them with normal guns?" Catechism says, "Yes, but this will be even /worse/, Excise." Excise says, "Wow!" Runamuck says, "Well, that's gonna break their insurance premiums, anyway." Catechism says, "First, to the annual San Diego Mirror/Ladder/Feline Convention, sponsored by Indoor Umbrella Corporation!" Fleet says, "... Rather convienent, that." Catechism says, "Sometimes, you have to go after the low-hanging datafruit." Snapdragon says, "Where's San Diego?" Runamuck says, "It's one of those...earth...place...thingies." Excise transmits a .avi file of the Decepticon insignia suddenly rushing towards you, which then flips around to still show the insignia as it rushes away. Crazy music plays during it, and once it's over Excise is already in San Diego. Snapdragon says, "Gee, like I didn't know that already, Runadunce. I meant WHERE on the stinkin' planet?" Runamuck says, "Well, exqueeze me fer tryin ta help. My next brilliant recommendation was gonna be to click yer heels and wish upon a star." California Covering almost 158,700 square miles, the Golden State contains everything from redwood and sequoia forests in the north, to the fertile Central Valley, to the deserts of the south and east. A land of contrasts, the lush beauty of forested national parks such as Redwood and Yosemite are matched by the harsh beauty of the Death Valley and Joshua Tree national parks. The coast, too, varies from waves dashing themselves at the foot of the rocky cliffs in the north to gentle swells lapping the sandy beaches in Southern California. The state is not only one of the most beautiful, but is also the most populous in the United States, concentrated mostly in major cities like Los Angeles and San Francisco. Contents: Sharkticon Longshot Rippersnapper Fleet Runamuck XF-35B Astral Lightning Snapdragon Santa Cruz Obvious exits: North leads to Northwestern States. Southeast leads to Mexico. West leads to North Pacific - North American Coast. East leads to Southwestern States. Nevada Fly Arizona Mojave Desert Death Valley Los Angeles San Francisco High in the atmosphere cruises a particularly dirty jet, which sortof looks like an SR-71 Blackbird, only white. And dirty. Snapdragon's huge, hungry engine suck in the air as he zooms overhead, roaring his way through the stratosphere. Sideswipe emerges from San Francisco. Sideswipe has arrived. Robots in disguise! Excise transforms into his sleek Cybertronian jet mode. XF-35B Astral Lightning flies above San Diego, seeking out the nnual San Diego Mirror/Ladder/Feline Convention, sponsored by the Indoor Umbrella Corporation. There, the Decepticons can gather objects to lower the ambient luck levels of the area and thereby construct an /anti-luck laser/ that lenses the anti-luck effect. It is entirely possible that she has not been getting enough defragmentation cycles. Cybertronian Jet is on Snapdragon's wing. He isn't dirty like Snapdragon, though. Excise has pride in his appearance, and so his armour is its normal orange and grey. "See this is why she's the boss, Snipdragoon," Excise tells his fellow triplechanger. "Great ideas like this here luck ray." That's not a flying fish and that's not a Mudskipper. Nope, it's Sharkticon . He's not on anybody's wing and he's not especially dirty. But he is looking for FOOD. Fleet is more or less in formation. Loosely. At a safe enough distance that if one of the other Decepticons suddenly stops flying right, he has time to get out of the way. He tends to stand out, being a tetrajet and such, but really, a mass of jets this large tends to stand out, anyway. Some days, not being a jet in the Decepticon forces is sorta like being the odd kid out during lunch break at school. Or something like that, anyway. Not that Runamuck notices. That sort of difficult socially aware observation is probably beyond him. Then again, he also thinks this plan is a good idea. So he's in robot mode as the Decepticon forces arc across the sky, flying through the wild blue yonder with about the approximate grace and aerodynamic properties of a brick, straggling behind the real fliers. "Hey," Runamuck calls out, "so, right, like, we gotta shoppin' list, right? 'cause it always sucks when ya don't have a list and you forget and miss out the milk and eggs or somethin'." Probably best not to speculate how or why a Cybertronian life form knows about groceries. Sharkticon says, "mmmmm, eeeeeeggggggggs." Secret A-gent Man! Secret Agent Man! They've given you a number And taken away your name. Below the flying formation of decepticon flyers is a lamborghini contach, streaking through the streets with style and speed to keep pace. The majority of it's body is covered in a dull shade of white while part of the hood is cast in orange. Just above the left set of head-lights is a purple badge.. Breakdown, right? Yeah, Breakdown. Snapdragon is hot on Catechism's tail, following the Aerospace Commander's lead, his massive engines spouting bits of flame and hot gases out the back(and possibly in Excise's general direction) "Call me Snipdragoon again, and I'll have you for lunch." Snaps doesn't even know what the little orange guy's name is, but he doesn't like him already. "And she ain't no boss of mine, neither." If it makes the Sharkticon feel any better, he's not the only robot-moded flying shark here. Rippersnapper soars arms and legs spread as if ready to fall onto an enemy below, nothing so graceful as the standard Superman pose you'd see the heroic Galvatron sporting. Rippersnapper just came along the mission for a night out on the town and some terrorizing. XF-35B Astral Lightning actually was human for a bit. And had to shop for a My Little Pony backpack. Long story. Bad story. Either way, she does have a slightly better idea of what constitutes a grocery list than most Decepticon do, and she answers, "Talismans of anti-luck! Hockey masks, broken mirrors, dead ladybugs, ladders, black felines, indoor umbrellas..." Cybertronian Jet barrel rolls out of the way of the hot hot gases that Snapdragon inadvertently sends in his direction. He forms back up on the mech's wing, but this time keeps his distance. "Well whatever," he replies, trying to remember what Snapdragon's actual name is and failing. "Ah ha, we are here, it looks like. Ms. Catechism, sir, does it count if we steal an outdoor umbrella and take it inside?" Excise gains +1 to sucking up. Being one of those transformers whose head is mostly a featureless metal plate, Runamuck doesn't have much in the way of facial expression. But his red visor slit does pulse as he shifts awkwardly in mid-flight. The change in movement causes him to buck wildly as air streams round his flying robot mode, but he doesn't slow down. Not all that much, anyway. As Catechism rattles off the list up front, Runamuck nods his head in sage attentiveness, making distinct 'writing this down' movements with his hands - big white fingers gripping a datapad and stylus. "I dunno, jet guy," Runamuck murmurs, as he squints at the list, "what colour umbrella? Gotta like, minimise the variables if yer substitutin' some ingredient for another in a recipe 'n stuff." Runamuck, Decepticon Chef. Smokescreen emerges from San Francisco. Smokescreen has arrived. "What about females on ships?" Fleet asks Catechism. It's anyone's guess as to where he's heard about /that/. He pauses. "The natives of Alkor Zephyr sometimes associate the eigth sun as bad luck. But we'd have to add seven more suns here in order to get eight. They also viewed shooting starts, rainbows, clouds, wind, leaves, and water falling from the sky as bad luck." XF-35B Astral Lightning considers Excise's question, and she replies, "Hmm. I think we need to keep it indoors. Perthaps you can steal a small shed fo some sort inn whcih to contain the indoor umbrella?" Then, she ponders Fleet's suggestion and adds, "Okay, get a boat, and I'll stand on it." 'Breakdown' kept in pace, making sure to stay in character by shouting "Stop looking at me!!" at ever pedestrian at the stop lights. He's very gopod at this being Breakdown stuff, he's done it once or twice. "I don't think that'll work," Fleet replies to Catechism. "You see, you're naked. Naked females on ships are acceptable. It's when they're wearing clothes that it's bad luck." He pauses to consider this. "I could get you a dress?" "Shooting stars are unlucky? I aleays thought giant rocks from space burning up on reentry were good luck." The filthy jet adds, flying along steadily, not quite sure where he's going or why he's here. Probaly lost a bet with apeface. Smokescreen was hesistant to alter his kickass paint job but once convinced the stylish possiblities in being redecorated as "Wildrider" Smokescreen gave in. He spies 'Breakdown' and moves toward him in an obvious and totally in character way, pushing others aside, and cackling once or twice as someone was knocked to the floor. He then moves close to 'Breakdown' and keeps pace with him. "It's how you look, Breakky. You're like blueberries and cream. The humans want to scoop parts of you into a bowl." Runamuck speaks up from right at the back of the ragged flying Decepticon group, still taking careful notes on his datapad. The stylus makes little scratching noises, just barely audible over the sound of the wind. "Dunno," Runamuck offers to Fleet, "wouldn't it need ta be a -really really- big dress? Like XXXXXXXL or somethin'?" Finding himself presented with a task that requires limbs Smokescreen transforms into his brightly painted robot mode. "You got it!" Excise replies to Catechism. The Cybertronian jet descends rapidly towards the convention centre. There's a big banner outside which reads 'Mirror/Ladder/Feline Convention'. The Indoor Umbrella Co. log is just below it. The convention is held in a large gym-like building, mostly so that the ladders can adequately be contained. Across the street is a similar building. A banner on the outside of /that/ building reads 'Shed Convention'. "Swish," Excise murmurs, having already completely Phase I of the operation. XF-35B Astral Lightning sudders in the air and snaps, "No! No, clothing on a Seeker is bad luck... for the Seeker." Starscream wore a cape. Starscream got Galvacannoned to ashes. See? Clothing is bad luck for Seekers. Sharkticon is curious about all this talk of black cats and indoor umbrellas. He doesn't know anything about luck or lack thereof, let alone that today is Friday the 13th! All he knows is someone promised him an Autobot Sandwich. Maybe that was promised a week ago. Gnaw has a bad memory. "We get Foooood?" he wonders. "Food not bad luck." "To the natives of Alkor Zephyr, nearly everything is bad luck, really," Fleet explains, before he considers Runamuck and Catechism's points. "I don't think tradition specifies that the clothes have to /fit/. Maybe you could wear a dress on your pinky like a ring?" Fleet offers. Either way, he's now flying towards the harbor, intent on stealing a boat. A car cruises by with Superstition by Stevie Wonder playing... "D'dude!?" exclaimed Sideswipe who is Breakdown, "That's creepy, don't say that!" he demanded, his brakes nearly clenching with the words. "You're creepy too, stop looking at me!" the car barked just to maintain character. His sensors pan upwards, a metaphorical brow furrowing as they split off, "Now what are they doing...?" He moved ever forward, casualy sweeping in and out of traffic, one thing about pretending to be a decepticon, it made driving a bit more fun. He pushed on ahead, pulling into the jampacked parking lot near the Mirror/Black Cat/Ladder convention. He hoped there wouldn't be any cosplayers. Humans in disguise.. they're kinda creepy too! There are totally some ladder cosplayers. "Dunno, shark guy," Runamuck comments, to Gnaw, as he makes one last final note on his datapad, jabbing the stylus down with a sharp note of decisive finality. The flying Battlecharger tucks the datapad under his arm. "If ya get some bad energon, that can really mess up yer recirculator pump there." As the Decepticons near the convention centre, Runamuck starts to angle downward, heading towards the big crowded parking lot in front of the main building. Just around the time the two faux Stunticons down below make their appearance, as well. Another car drives by in the opposite playing "Low Rider" by War. Rippersnapper touches down and starts to step forward to backhand the nearest human. "Get out of my way you stinking puny walking fungaloid!" Just then he slips on a bannana peel and crashes onto his back. Snapdragon is too lazy to make a real entrance, so he just cuts his engines, and transforms into his equally filthy robot mode. Now lacking jet engines, he plummets like a stone, until having an unpleasant meeting with the ground. Snapdragon transforms into a filthy, filthy robot. Cybertronian Jet pulls up just before he would have crashed into the roof of the convention centre. Hovering for the briefest of moments, he transforms so he can make with the stealing, but screws up and shifts into his rarely seen third mode rather than robot mode. The oddly shaped Cybertronian submarine lingers in the air for several seconds a la Wile E. Coyote before dropping like a stone, smashing through the roof of the convention centre, and crushing an exhibit on those weird circus mirrors that make you look super fat or super skinny. Tilted awkwardly on one side, Excise begins shouting. "I'm hit! I'm hit! I'm down! I'm down!" Autobots wage their battle to destroy the evil forces of the Decepticons! Excise transforms into his stubby submarine mode. Smokescreen that is Wildrider cackles loudly at the reaction of Sideswipe that is Breakdown as he pulsl a hard left into the parking lot, zig zagging, and resisting the temptation to add some smoke for effect. "Hey, what's the matter, tough guy...hey, did that light up there just wink at you? I think somebody's got a fan! Ha ha!" Sideswipe says, "Not cool man! Not. Cool!" Steeltread says, "what'd you do now?" Smokescreen says, "Hey, I'm staying in character!" "Y'know," Runamuck muses, as he hovers over the parking lot, "I feel like my uniqueness in doin' bloody stupid things fer the Decepticon cause is somehow bein' terribly compromised 'ere." The Battlecharger scratches his head. Then he transforms. Runamuck drops the rest of the way to the ground in vehicle mode. The white Pontiac Firebird slams into the earth, all four wheels bouncing with a ear-twisting groan of abused suspension. Inside Runamuck's cabin, the datapad he was so carefully scribbling on bounces to a stop on his passenger seat. The human crowd of convention-goers reacts...badly...to yet another plummeting from the sky, landing in a loud clatter in the middle of the carpark. In some ways it's even worse than all the falling robots. Flying robots are easy to understand. Flying cars and flying submarines, that's a whole different level of WTFry. Red Alert has encrypted this channel. The Autobot channel has been encrypted. Steeltread says, "What happened, Sideswipe?" Sideswipe says, "Dude said he wanted to scoop my berries and cream." Kup has arrived. Smokescreen says, "Hey, I've been misquoted!" Sideswipe says, "That's Asexuial herassment, buster!" Wiretap says, "Something smells fishy." Wiretap says, "and it's not Gnaw." Kup says, "I'm en route, you fragging idiots. Now what the hell are you up to?" Runamuck says, "-Fish-? Dude I didn't hear anythin' about no fish in this plan? Are fish bad luck too?" Catechism says, "Is it Rippersnapper?" Smokescreen says, "I'm defending my reputation as a character actor, Kup! Oh, and the Decepticons are messing around at some convention hall." Red Alert says, "I can't guarentee how long I'll be able to keep this fequency secure. Be prepared to move to back-up." Wiretap says, "No." Wiretap says, "I'll try to weasel my way back into the Autobot communications." The Breakdown contach rears up, suddenly transforming into Sideswi- Wait, no, no.. With a grunt and a push, Sideswipe flips his chest mounted hood up and over his head, leaving it to fold over his back. Topless Autobots posing as Decepticons Lambors Gone Wild! "Don't forget horse shoes!" Breakswipe calls out, a hand waving around emphaticly, "The luck runs out when they're upside down!" While the rest of the Decepticons head for the convention, Fleet lands at a small civilian harbor amongst privately owned pleasure craft. Ah, but if only he had known about what was going on amongst the others, he'd have just suggested that Catechism stand on Excise! He's here, though, and looking for a suitable boat to bring back with him. Runamuck says, "Well, that kinda makes sense since yer a weasel thing and everythin' but if it's fish maybe yer should look into gettin' a fish altmode so you can, like, fish your way in." Smokerider aslo transforms, despite it seeming that he was already transformed, before turning to look over at Breakswipe. "They don't have any luck, man, unless you can trip somebody up after tossing 'em over your head!" Kup says, "Huh. Ya know, hold on a sec... eff... enh... there we go." Wiretap says, "Leave the weaseling to me, and I'll leave the running amuck to you, ok?" Kup says, "I just hope there isn't another... uh... incident." Scrapper says, "Do you hthink you'd best give your information pathways a rest, Runamuck? The replacements I need to give you after your last short circuit were quite extensive." Runamuck says, "Ah, right, like, division of labour in whatsit-- modern economies or summat, right." Runamuck says, "Yeah, I totally got comparative advantage in mucking." Red Alert says, "Secondary established." Runamuck says nothing for a moment afterwards. Then: "...I have pathways? Duuuude, sweet." Scrapper makes a sound that could be called a sigh. "I had best double the stockpile..." Rippersnapper sits up with a WTF look of his own. "How did I end up like this?" He head shakes and picks himself up. A janitor shakes a broom at the Decepticon and Rippersnapper shakes a finger back. He strides over in three steps closing the distance faster than the janitor would have liked and Rippersnapper snatches the broom away. "Time to swat you, mouse." The janitor starts running, and Rippersnapper gives chase with the broom raised high. No sooner than he makes four strdes than the broom catches on an overhead powerline and breaks into the current, zapping Rippersnapper with a horrendous amount of wattage. "fraggleraggleraggleraggleragglerock!" he breaks the connection and falls to the ground again, smoke waifing up from his slightly singed circuits. Wiretap says, "I feel that we are all now collectivly stupider for having listened you to, Runamuck." Runamuck says, "I'm like a missionary, man, I'm just 'ere to spread the good word and share the love." XF-35B Astral Lightning is flying about, having unleashed the Decepticons to perform what is it either a great plan or an act of lunacy. With Decepticon strategies, it can be rather hard to tell the difference. Electric lava. Yes. Cybertronian Sub remains motionlessly in the centre of the convention. Shards of mirrored glass, cheap plastic from the booth, and debris from the ceiling he crashed through litter the floor both under and around him. The tile flooring has cracked from the impact. <> Excise transmits desperately on the shortwave Decepticon broadband. <> A calico kitten with mostly red and white fur from the Box o' Kittens exhibit right next to him wanders over. "Mew," she says, sniffing at one of his stabilizer fins. Kup falls forward, folding up into really old looking futuristic truck! The Orange faced Swipedowner nods in agreement with Wildsmoker, arms crossed over his naked, sexy robot-chest, "Yeah, and spilled salt is bad luck too. We should spill all the s-" he's cut off by the sound of a fried landshark-fish. A very Unbreakdown smile creeps across his orange features. Hooking a thumb towards Rippersnaper he intones, "Very good luck.." Meanwhile, over where Runamuck rests in the parking lot... the /real/ Decepticon sports car looks back and forth, the nose of the vehicle swivelling as the front wheels twist. He seems to have decided on a direction, and starts to roll...before he screeches to an equally abrupt halt. "HEY, HEY," Runamuck calls out in alarm, his keenly honed senses picking up a comrade in distress! (yeah right) Runamuck gins his engine. His tires squeal as they purchase on the asphalt. Then Runamuck's away, racing down the parking lot towards the convention centre. As he zooms towards the building, he catches sight of the two other car-mode 'Decepticons' in the vicinity. "OI STUNTICREEPS! DON'T JUST STAND AROUND, THERE'S A 'CON IN TROUBLE! WE GOT A MAN DOWN! MAN DOOOOOOWWWN!" And screaming thus, Runamuck goes -straight through- the side of the convention building, brick and plaster exploding ... debris coating the long prow of his car form, staining the Decepticon symbol painted on the hood. "HANG ON! WE'RE COMIN' TO HELP, JET GUY!" Fleet finally finds a suitable small boat and lifts it up, examining it. Then he looks around. Spotting a dress drying on a clothesline, he snatches it up. He meets no interference - the moment the Decepticon started wading about, the humans fled. His treasure found, he leaps into the air, carrying the boat and the dress back towards the convention center where the others are. Wildsmoker's owwn red face splits in a broad grin as he flicks his optics over toward the sound of grilling Rippersnapper. "Yeah, it's the best thing that's happened all day. It must've been caused I didn't send that bus spinning cause I was in a hurry." Sharkticon had followed Rippersnapper--having confused the Terrorcon with a fellow Sharkticon, but hey, that's how Gnaw rolls. Seeing what the current did to Ripper, he leaps up to grab a jolt himself. After all, he's hungry. *BZZZAAAAP* That did not go according to plan. Gnaw is instantly in the same sizzled state that Ripper found himself in. But at least he got a charge out of it. Hey, anyone smell burnt seaweed? XF-35B Astral Lightning transforms and comes crashing down through the convention centre roof, severely annoying the hot dog stand man, who flicks some pieces of dry wall off the hot dogs. She looks around, and then she stares, "...where did this submarine come from? How did a submarine even get here? This is land! And, uh, where did Excise go?" XF-35B Astral Lightning transforms into robot form. Catechism's feet unfold, her arms unfold out of her body, her nosecone rotates through her body and ends up on her shoulders to expose her face, and her wings rotate into position. Cybertronian Sub grumbles as the kitten sniffs at him. He fumbles around with his own systems, trying to remember what the hell is going wrong. He's pretty sure he should have an electro-cannon somewhere in this mode, even if the mobility systems aren't working right now. Maybe he's a stationary battlestation a la the Gestalt leaders' third modes? he muses. Ah well, it doesn't matter. He mentally reviews his systems, looking for that electro-cannon. Finally he thinks he has it, and mentally throws a switch. An external searchlight flicks on and shines in the approaching Runamuck's optics. This does not help his predicament at all. Down the road to the exhibit trundles a fearsome sight: A jet black truck, with crimson racing stripes along its body. The truck stops in front of the Mirror/Ladder/Feline Convention center, and transforms into a fearsome, faceplated Decepticon! "GRAAHHHH!" roars the Decepticon, in deep throaty voice. "Where is my energon? I, Pick, demand it!" Turns out, Pick has an actual pick as a weapon, and he swings it around for emphasis as he growls angrily. The faded green cybertruck springs up and splits apart, revealing the ancient Autobot, Kup! Rippersnapper recovers after a few minutes of just laying there and cooling off. He tests his finger-flexing and then sits up again. "What the Charr was that?" The Terrorcon once more picks himself up and gingerly takes a few test steps. Not looking where he is going, his foot comes down upon a crack in the floor. Now, humans have been walking over it for years, but not comes the mass of a giant robot... And the section of cracked floor breaks. Rippersnapper's leg plunges down into the sub level, his other leg remaining up on the more sturdy floor, causing him to do an awkward splits and wrenching his back with an audible metallic teraing. "AAARRRRRRWAHGREATTURBORATBEEARINGS!" Breakside claps a hand over his mouth with the arrival of Pick, eyes cinching with mirth, sputtered, muted laughter crackling behind his hand. Runa shakes him from his near crippling fit of laughter. "Wha- Oh, right.." he answers befor trotting off in purrrsuit, scrambling through the hole that Runa had made, "Stop looking at me with your eyes!" he hoots just for the sake of it, "Your eyes, they're full of stars!" Fleet finally returns to the others. Rippernsapper and Gnaw seem to be holding their own little fish fry. Well, fish and, erm. Thing. Fry. And then he spots Excise. He lands near Catechism and hands her the human sized dress. "Oh. I can see you already found a ship to stand on." He turns, then, at Pick's arrival, and his optics cycle a blink. "This, erm, isn't an energon raid, actually. We're trying to steal luck. I think." Meanwhile, inside the convention centre... "JET GUY, JET GUY," Runamuck cries out for Excise, as he barrels through the convention building in car mode. The white Pontiac Firebird is just a little too broad to fit easily through the aisles between booths. This means he leaves a whole lot of squealing cats, shattered mirrors, and broken ladders in his wake. Oh, and screaming humans. But the humans are rather incidental, really. As he nears the centre of the convention hall, near where the submarine-form Excise smashed through the roof... Runamuck catches sight of Catechism first. "Boss lady," the Battlecharger yells, "we gotta man down! His emergency beacon's lit off and everythin'! But I can't see him anywhere! Maybe he's under the submarin---" That's when Excise's searchlight goes off with the force of a million candles, straight into Runamuck's front grille and bumper - where his optic strip is, in vehicle mode. The resulting shriek of surprise is almost ear-splitting in intensity. Instinctively, Runamuck guns his engine - sending him straight into the prone Cybertronian submarine at full speed. Smokescreen shunts his the energy from his amusement processor to his snidiness collector as Kupmaster arrives. "Hey, big boss! They've got plenty of vending machines around here: I checked!" Gnaw finally stirs too, and sees the predicament that Rippersnapper is in. He waddles over to the Terrorcon and offers his tail to pull on, so that Gnaw can pull him out of the hole. "Us find food?" he wonders. Catechism stares at the dress Fleet is handign her, and she tries to shove it back to him, "No! I'm not wearing clothing! That would be bad luck for /me/. Just look at Starscream! Here, you go wear the dress and stand on the submarine while Runamuck and I look for Excise. He can't have gone far...." "But... I'm not female!" Fleet protests. "It doesn't work for me!" A bag-lady pshes her shopping cart obliviously through the center, happening to pass nearby the pitfall-prone Rippersnapper. His optics fade in and out as he 'adjusts' to his new condition of damage and pain. He spots her cart and snarls, "Gimme that, you walking compost!" He grabs the cart and then for good meassure snatches the bouquet of dandelions from the bag ladies hat. "Get outta here..." He snorts at the dandelions and then throws them away to the approaching Gnaw. "Eat those." Just then, a pipe in the floor at his crotch level breaks open and slams into his pelvic armor. His lubricant cap seal busts open and he starts leaking all over himself. "GRACK! PUTEWIE! YUK!" He bats and scrambles his hands on his cap seal trying to stop the flow. Cybertronian Sub hears a bunch of things as he fumbles around with his own systems. He's glad Catechism has found a ship to stand on, even if he can't seem to see where it is from his vantage point. The Decepticon triplechanger picks up other good, Primus fearing Decepticons as well shouting incoherently. Good stuff, that. Finally, just as Runamuck is rushing towards him to save him, Excise locates the electro-cannon controls. On top of the tilted submarine, a single barreled turret pops up, swiveling around as it automatically looks for Autobots to begin frying. The logic of an electrical weapon while underwater is not important here. Suddenly, the blinded Runamuck slams into him. "Ah!" Excise exclaims. The impact jostles him, causing him to tilt... and tip over, crashing down on his top. Sparks fly as the dorsal mounted electro-cannon is crushed beneath his bulk as he rolls onto a stepladder exhibit. The kitten jumps out of the way, alarmed at the collision. As he lays upside down in the midst of a sea of the 2030 stepladder models and 2030 stepladder accessories, Excise's emergency transponder switches to a new code, signaling the extreme danger he's in. At least he'll still make a good platform to stand on. Pick stomps slowly towards Fleet, breathing heavily, pick-wielding arm twitching. "We are stealing LUCK? Why not ENERGON? I just passed a gas station over there!" Pick's aggressive body language and his fearsome stare suggest that he wants to do serious harm to Fleet, which may not entirely be an act. "But if that is what GALVATRON wishes, very well!" He turns away angrily, and as he does so, he manages to glare at the other two Decepticons no one seems to remember. Then Pick marches inside the exhibit, passing right by Runamuck and Excise. "WHERE IS THE LUCK!?" Catechism rolls her optics at Fleet and suggests, "Just go into your default settings panel and check a few more boxes. Or grab a human female, put her in the dres,s and put /her/ on the submarine." Honestly, Fleet! It's not like being a girl is /hard/. Even Elita One could manage it! Meanwhile, Rippersnapper pretends he is 2007 Bumblebee. She raises an optical ridge at Pick. Whoa, Motormaster has an older brother? Who knew? Lying upside-down, Runamuck's wheels spin wildly in the air. The white Pontiac is now resting on its roof, undercarriage and transmission facing the ceiling. He rocks from side to side, having bounced off the Mysterious Submarine rather hard. Runamuck says to Pick in passing, "Uhhhhhh, Luck, we haz it?" Smokescreen turns to foolow Pick as the other stomps his away across the ground, starting to move after him, before he notices something shiny on the ground. It is almost too tiny for him to pick up but, with some deft movements he scoops it up, and holds it out toward Pick's back. "Look sir, droids!" He then leans forward to get a closer look. "Oh, it's just one of those penny things. Damn, I thought I had something cool." Fleet cringes back as Pick yells at him, then remembers that he's supposed to be the Executive Officer of Aerospace, and he straightens. To Smokescreen, he shouts, "If the penny things are tails up, try to force a human to pick them up." That's supposed to be bad luck too, right? 'If its tails, leave it lay.' Speaking of organics, Fleet looks around for human females. Finding one huddling under a half-collapsed section of roof, he strides over, stepping on several cracks on the way, kneels, and rescues the human. "I've got a /job/ for you, flesh creature," he says menacingly, turning back towards Excise. Cybertronian Sub presses more mental buttons as he lays upside down on the convention centre floor. A propeller on his right (starboard, something deep in his databanks tells him) side begins to spin around uselessly. His pulverized electro-cannon tries to rotate but is hampered by being underneath the sub. <> he transmits, <> Gnaw catches the flowers in his teeth and munches. "More," he demands. Pick rumbles, "MMM, YEESSSS, keep penny!" as he nods approvingly at Evilsmokes or whatever his persona is. "HELP ME GET KITTIES!" he rumbles as he makes his way to the kitten exhibit. The Decepticon ducks his head down as he unwittingly walks under the World's Unluckiest Ladder. Then, several black cats dart across his path. The old Auto--uh, Decepticon growls evilly as he tries to snatch them. Rippersnapper finally gets the leak locked down and sighs. "What is the matter with me today?" He looks to the stolen cart and rummages with one hand. He finds a dishcloth and soaks up the wasted lubricant, drying himself He tosses the dishcloth away and then tries to get his leg out of the hole in the floor. His slip and slide on the floor edges and he keeps droping back in. Grumbling, he looks around seeing if Gnaw's tail is still up for grabs. "This ain't good," Runamuck says grimly, his voice carrying an unaccustomed tone of seriousness. "EXCISE! WE SHALL COMPLETE THE MISSION! YER SACRIFICE SHALL NOT BE IN VAIN!" This speech would probably be a lot more dramatic. Except, well, one, it's Runamuck. And two, he's still lying upside down. In vehicle mode. All four wheels spinning uselessly in the air. Sharkticon s tail is still up for grabs! Smokerider tucks the penny into his glvoe compartment as he continues after Pick, looking at all the kittens running about around him, before looking at the other's back. "Those fur things, boss? Aww, again? Last time the fur got all over my seats!" Fleet approaches the submarine sitting out in the middle of the convention and clambers on it, so that he can drop his human captive on top of it. "There!" he proclaims once that was done. "Clothed female on ship! My mission is accomplished!" He slides down, backs up, then looks over at Catechism. "Do we have to find a way to get them back to base like that?" Rippersnapper grabs the tail and pulls himself out of the hole, back creaking where the armor is torn or broken. He pushes himself away from the hole and just slumps. "Harrumf." The kitten that was sniffing Excise climbs up one of his fins until it reaches the sub's underside (or top at the moment). It crawls around the Decepticon insignia plastered there before curling into a ball and falling asleep next to the human captive Fleet has just put there. <> Excise transmits back to Runamuck. <> The propeller spins a little bit faster now as Excise contemplates just how the Autobots could have taken them by so surprise and dealt such devastating damage so quickly. Runamuck rocks on his roof, the front end of his upside-down car mode dipping forward in an approximation of a stern nod. He does not correct Excise on his name - it's understandable that the poor beleaguered Decepticon mistook him for his Battlecharger partner. Obviously Excise is badly wounded, fading fast, and delusional from loss of energon. "We will -carry on-," Runamuck vows, out loud. In a clatter of parts, Runamuck transforms to robot mode, pulling out the datapad he was writing on earlier. On it are all the careful notes he was taking on the way here, when Catechism explained her cunning plan...and what they're supposed to steal. Runamuck squints hard, trying to make out his own handwriting. >> RUNAMUCK'S LIST: > cat cat cat lots of cats make sure they're black cats cats not other sorts of cats or japanese fortune cats because that would be cat good luck no it's definitely black cat and possibly cat under a ladder for better evil cattitude but definitely cat In a solemn, all-business voice, Runamuck intones: "FER GALVATRON!" Pick nods evilly at Smokerider. "Yes, get kitties! Clean seats later!" After a few moments of snatching, he manages to ensnare an armful of little black cats. It's strange, but, given what a brute he is, he's holding them rather gently. "Got some kitties! Need more!" Then, he spots Fleet placing a human onto a submarine, and realizes he should act to prevent her from getting harmed. Stomping over to Excise, he growls over the sound of a dozen mewling kittens, "NO, no longer need human! Submarine unlucky now, FOREVER." Hm, his faceplate's hanging open a bit. Does he have an actual face? Smokescreen begins to grab hold of kittens, showing what might be called undue care while doing so, and as he holds them up to his face they began to lick at his face. Wildscreen tries to keep them away but one or two always seem to be in a position to lick at him. Hey...is that white paint showing on his face? Steeltread arrives from out the Southwestern States region. Steeltread has arrived. Catechism puts her hands on her hips, and she points out, "But the submarine is /unluckier/ of it has a human female with clothes on it. Maybe put some ladders and broken mirrors on it, too. And an indoor umbrella! Then we haul it home, erect a small pile of rocks in Excise's name, and unleash our anti-luck laser." Fleet's optics flicker in response to a suprise-induced voltage spike. "Really? I didn't realize that's all it took!" he answers. "But then, I really /am/ a lot more familiar with Iraklian superstitions," he murmurs, considering. He spots 'Pick's' faceplate cracking open, widens his optics, and swiftly looks away, imagining some sort of non-faced demon beneath that. Either way, /he/ doesn't want to see what lies beneath the mask. He nods to Catechism. "Ladders and broken mirrors! Got it!" With that, he rushes off to gather up the supplies, leaving the female human and the sleeping kitten on top of the submarine. "Now what?" Gnaw asks nobody in particular, "Where food? Want food. More food. Hungryyyy." He starts wandering around the convention, trying to find /something/ a Sharkticon would find appealing. He trips over a table of someone selling opal jewelry. Gnaw didn't know it but those were supposed to be HUGELY bad luck. "Stiff upper lip, Excise... stiff upper lip...!" the submarine whispers to itself as it lays helplessly before all the Autobots that are probably around him, just waiting to strike. At least the all important will succeed. Excise is still a little hazy on what the mission was, but Runamuck seemed confident that it was going to be a success. The propeller keeps spinning, yet still fails to help Excise any. The kitty purrs and continues to snooze. Reaching over the prone submarine, Runamuck reaches gingerly towards the snoozing kitty resting on Excise's hull. The poor woman besides the cat flinches away from the giant robotic hands, but the Battlecharger doesn't pay her any heed. His concentration is -entirely- on lifting the tiny fluffy kitten from the submarine's hull. Runamuck's visor glows in concentration, his faceplate displaying a classic Cybertronian look of intense dedication and commitment to the task. To the crusty black and red truck Decepticon standing nearby, the evil and diabolical Pick, Runamuck whispers: (so as not to wake the target) "Is a cat on an unlucky submarine thing doubly unlucky, then?" Catechism tilts her head to one side, and she murmurs, "Y'know, it almost sounded like that submarine was talking, but that's /crazy/. It doesn't look anything like DepthCharge!" She shakes her head. Everyone knows that DepthCharge is the only talking submarine in the whole of the universe. Mortex has arrived. Spectrum emerges from San Francisco. Spectrum has arrived. Smokescreen sees that his own disguise is beginning to become less convincing and so, cats in hand, he starts to move away toward the exit of the parking lot. Pick approaches the submarine further, peering at Runamuck. "YES! Cat and woman with clothing very unlucky on submarine! But once placed, they are no longer needed! Human can go, and so can cat." As he is walking up, however, he smacks his knee into Excise's protruding propeller. It cuts a slice into his armor. "OWWW!" Pick yells, stumbling forward and accidentally flinging kittens all over the beached submarine. "Frag! Ow, frag! Frag!" The incarnation of motor-vehicular evil hobbles around, clutching his knee and cursing. Oh God! That sound! That revving chainsaw, that chopping...it's Jason! Run! Oh wait, no. Jason doesn't use a chainsaw. It's only Mortex. ...oh crap, it's Mortex! Run! Yes, indeed, the Decepticon Medic - for reasons known -entirely- to him - and his newfound surgical tool are slicing through various spare parts, wheezing like a Star Wars bad guy as he searches for the absolutely perfect pieces he requires. The Necrocon seems to be in no hurry to join the others, quite happy to be allowed to cut things to his heart's content. That can't be a good thing. Catechism shakes her head and glares at Pick, insisting, "No, no, no. We need all the unlucky objects in one place, so that we can /lense/ the anti-luck. We can't just let the cats and lady wander off!" She notes, very unsympathetically, as Pick gets injured, "And see? It's working. We can't stop now!" "Mew," the kitten on top (bottom) of Excise says as its catnap gets disturbed by Runamuck. It gets picked up, but goes back to sleep once it's in the Battlecharger's hands. Excise continues to repeat his mantra about staying strong up until he feels a sudden tug on his propeller. It hacks into Kup's knee before snapping off, sending tiny bits of shrapnel flying both into Excise's hull and the Autobot elder's leg. "Argh!" Excise calls out. Angry, he turns his spotlight on and off repeatedly. Fleet wanders around gathering up broken mirror shards and ladders to put on the Submarine to make it evenmore unlucky. By complete coincidence, however, his course of wandering intercepts with Wildsmoker's path. He almost bumps into the Autobot in disguise before he realizes the other is there, at which point he leaps back, dropping shards of glass and ladders everywhere. "Gaaah! Hey! Watch where you're going!" Runamuck blinks. Or at least, the light in his visor flashes on and off, as he looks around in confusion. The kitten in his oversized hands stirs slightly, prompting Runamuck to freeze in concern. Then he stares at the submarine suspiciously. It just yelled. And then the searchlight went on and off. And it just took a chunk out of a Decepticon's leg with its propeller. Clearly there can be only one conclusion. "This thing is ALIVE," Runamuck declares. Runamuck's voice lifts an octave. "It's HAUNTED!" Catechism claps her hands in sheer and delight, and she crows, "Clearly, we are reaching a critical mass of anti-luck! Now, if only we can focus it, we can zap the Autobots with pure, unadulterated Friday the 13th anti-luck and ruin their insurance rates! Their economy will never recover, and victory will be ours." She clenches a fist. Pick hops around a bit more before he finally gets back into character. "BAH!" he growls. "Minor wound!" Then, he reaches into the gash on his knee, and just rips the metal fragments out. He's had to do this before. In fact: "THIS REMINDS ME OF THAT TIME I WAS ON ARGLUS XX," Pick begins, then he looks about. Woops. "I... I killed EVERYONE! Mwuahahahaha!" Turning to Catechism, he says, "You sure? Submarine seem very unlucky right now!" A little bit of energon leaks out of the wound on his leg. Assault Battle Tank rolls on up....ironically painted as Brawl......but he keeps his distance to watch for now. Mortex looks up at Runamuck's 'it's haunted!', his chainsaw-sounding surgical tool dying as he trods over to inspect the World's Unluckiest Vehicle. "The theory...is sound," he wheezes after a long moment towards Catechism, trying his best to ignore Pick as he rubs his claws together, sunken red optics staring at the pile of poor luck. "But none of us are stepping on any cracks. We should make certain the machine is capable of stepping across cracks, in order to break the backs of every molder the Autobots have." "Also, we require human ladders to place it between." <> Excise exclaims over the broadband without realizing that he heard it with his audio sensors and not his radio. <> He is, at least, reassured by Pick's story about killing everyone. Excise gets a flashback to all the times /he/ was on a planet, and /he/ killed everyone. "Good times," he murmurs. "Good times..." Fleet gets back to gathering up his mirror shards and ladders and returns to the submarine. He looks around at the others but, without comment, clambers up to the vessel and dumps broken glass and ladder bits on it. Fortunately, since he's just dumping ladders and glass over the nearest section, the frightened human woman standing on top of the submarine is unharmed. He looks up at Mortex. "Cracks? I can step on a few cracks, if necessary." Catechism nods and insists to Pick, "Yeah, this thing needs all the bad luck we can gather. " Then, she shouts, <> To Fleet, she directs, "Just... move the submarine over some cracks, y'know? So that it's sttepign on them. Here, I Runamuck stumbles back a step as the submarine actually -speaks- this time. This causes the kitten in his grasp to give a loud mew. Runamuck shakes his head from side, then carefully puts the black cat away for safekeeping. He does this by popping open the vehicle cabin that makes up his torso, and placing the drowsy cat on the driver's seat. This done, Runamuck continues eying the submarine. "Well, like," he says, "the freakin' ghost ship thing is talkin' 'bout 'good times'... I guess it likes the plan or somethin'." Catechism nods and insists to Pick, "Yeah, this thing needs all the bad luck we can gather. " Then, she shouts, <> To Fleet, she directs, "Just... move the submarine over some cracks, y'know? So that it's stepping on them. Here, I'll help push." She oves to help push the unlucky submarine in the direction of some cracks. The medic rubs his jaw. "It seems that the mirror shards would be less wise," he notes, "Than dropping the submarine through mirrors as part of the weapon itself." The Decepticon bobs his head. "That way maximum release of bad luck would occur in a radius." He starts calculating this out in his head, "A fairly large one, in fact - one that would probably erupt outwards in a ripple effect. I suppose Luck must be a wave-particulate effect...or something related to quantum mechanics..." Tied-up in his own (aloud) thoughts, the Necrocon is unfortunately not apparently capable of recognizing Excise's voice, nor Kup's. Oops. Pick nods evilly! "OK! I will get kitties back to make submarine very unlucky!" He stomps around Excise, trying to grab all the kittens he dropped earlier. "KITTIES!" he booms. "KITTIES COME BACK, OR DIE!" Naturally, the kittens instead flee from him out the open/smashed door to the center. Geeze, he's pretty terrible at cat-wrangling. "All right, Catechism," Fleet answers at her suggestion. He lines up next to her and starts to push the submarine towards the nearest cracks in the ground. Gnaw picks himself up, scattering opals everywhere. "Why no food?" he whines, thrashing his tail around side to side and making an even bigger mess. <> Excise replies to Catechism. The Cybertronian submarine gets pushed along. An awful scraping noise can be heard as the tile cracks with each shove that Excise receives. On the plus side this means he might not have to be pushed very far. Not being much heavier than a Seeker would be in jet mode, the Decepticons should be able to place him wherever they want. Runamuck's faceplate is, of course, blank metal. Yet he gives, somehow, a vague approximation of a frown as he stares at Fleet pushing the upside-down submarine. There's just this strange feeling that there's SOMETHING he's missing here. But what could it possibly be? He folds his arms over his chest. Below Runamuck's crossed arms, the windshield of his car mode is visible. And through that, one can just barely make out the small fuzzy form of a black kitten, slumbering securely behind the dashboard. Rippersnapper eventually stops resting and picks himself up. In a bad mood but no longer motivated to raid the convention, He walks out slowly. He bumps into an old gypsie man who gives him the evil eye. "Dat wuz my mother you stole from, metal demon. Now I curse you!" The gypsie man brushes the back of his knuckles against Rippersnapper and says, "Thinner." Rippersnapper is too beat to lash out at the ridiculous human. Instead, he just keeps walking, not paying mind to much of anything. He steps out onto some train tracks and WHAM! Rippersnapper is crushed... flattened into himself and thrown several yards away. Kup stomps back towards the cursed submarine, growling, "KITTIES ESCAPE." He hangs his head a bit. "Sorry." Er, actually, it's Pick, not Kup. PICK. Yeah. *Yeah.* Gnaw likewise loses interest, given the lack of food. So he ambles off in search of a gas station. He is at least smart enough to grab a nozzle and point it into his maw and pull the lever so that gas pours down his throat. Finally...foood...of some kind. "Alright," Runamuck says decisively, slamming one fist into the flat of his hand. He seems to have come to a conclusion. "Let's DO this, then." Transforming swiftly, he lands in his sports car mode, and rolls in front of the submarine. The Battlecharger calls back to Fleet, while honking his horn. Runamuck revs his engine. "Get some rope! We'll TOW this sucker home!" Inside Runamuck's vehicle mode...behind the dashboard, up on the driver's seat... a small black kitten snuggles into the cushion, lulled to sleep by the motion of the vehicle. It makes a quiet purring noise. The cat supports this plan. Mortex just...stares at Runamuck for a moment. "...you realize you cannot drive underwater, yes?" Cybertronian Sub continues to moan and whimper quietly to himself as his allies plan to tug the mystery submarine back to New Crystal City. "I've got a grappling hook in my alternate mode," Fleet notes, transforming. He leaps into the air, transforms, and takes off through the roof. "Once you get outsides, I'll hook it." Meanwhile, now that no one is paying attention to her, the human woman clambers off the submarine and runs to safety. Yay! Catechism points out, "Wait, wait, wait! Fleet and I are water-proof, though! /We/ can tow it home underwater! It'll save your leather, eh, Runamuck?" Also the cat, though she doens't know about it yet. She transforms. Catechism transforms to her jet mode, which is quite astoundingly simple for the coneheaded model that she is. As the human runs off, Pick subtly sidesteps to block the Decepticons' view of her. "GRAAAH! I need energon!" he yells at the top of his lungs. Mortex bobs his head. "I concurr." Of course, really, he just wanted to see his designs in action. Silly Decepticon medic. "Awwww," Runamuck whines, the pitch of his engine revs changing ever-so subtly. His tires scrape against the ruined convention centre flooring, grinding a bit of broken ladder into even more wooden fragments. "Annnd I was -so- hopin' ta have a trailer, too. I could be like Runamuck Prime wit' a second bit behind me to combine to a big bad luck battlestation or giant robot mode." The front end of the white sports car bounces a bit, suspension creaking. Runamuck nods. "Whatever ya say, tho, Boss Lady." Once Runamuck Prime gets Trailer Excise out of doors, Fleet swoops by from overhead, grappling hook extended. He hooks the unlucky submarine and drags him along. Cybertronian Sub is dragged along. He hears an awful scraping, which is ruining his beautiful orange paintjob. <> Excise idly thinks about how best to reveal information so the Bots won't hurt him too badly later on. Combat: Your COMBAT flag has been cleared. XF-35B Astral Lightning also tries to get a grappling cable on Excise/the mystery submarine of doom to help Fleet with hauling, and she radios, <> Pick appears to be too busy yelling and screaming to help poor Excise out of the crater. The 'thinner' Rippersnapper slowly crawls his way towards the sea, but on his way a giant in a hockey mask breaks off one of his altmodes fangs for undisclosed use. Gnaw swims off to NCC in the sunset. After waddling overland for awhile.